


The Prince and the — Wait, He's Not a Pauper

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-11
Updated: 2008-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For iphignia939.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Prince and the — Wait, He's Not a Pauper

**Author's Note:**

> For iphignia939.

Once upon a time, there was a prince named Pete. He lived in a glorious tower filled with beautiful things and pretty people who wore eyeliner and skinny jeans, and most of whom were male. Despite this, Pete was not happy. He wandered the castle grounds longing for the day somebody would come in and shake up his safe little world.

There came a day -- a warm, sunny morning in June -- when a minstrel came to the castle. He had spent many years travelling, playing for whomever would listen, and he played for the court. As soon as Pete heard the minstrel's voice, a light seemed to beam on him from the ceiling (it was the spot-torch) and angels sang (it was the minstrel). He watched the entire set, enraptured, and the moment it was over he approached the minstrel and asked his name.

"Patrick," was the answer. "Excuse me, I have to -" He gestured to the lute in his hands, and Pete stood aside to let him pass.

He followed. "You're -- you have a really amazing voice. Seriously." He scratched the back of his head, searching for something to say that would endear himself to this minstrel, something that would make Patrick want to keep talking to him. "So um, where did you learn to sing like that?"

Patrick shrugged, closing the case he had built for transporting the lute. "I didn't, I just -- I just do it, I guess."

"You're amazing," Pete repeated. "You could -- I mean, wow, that -- do you want to stay here? I mean, be our court minstrel? I could totally get you that job. If you want it, just say the word, dude, it's totally yours."

Patrick shook his head. "I like to travel. But um, thanks."

"Well, can I come with you?" Pete asked, increasingly desperate now. "I could help you out, I swear! Carry your lute? Make posters! Spread the word to wherever you're playing, build up support. I could totally help you out!"

"What? No, why would you even want to?" Patrick seemed to be edging away. Pete dodged into his personal space and gave him a grin.

"Because I like being around people who are beautiful and amazing." He shrugged, a careless movement. "Besides, you need someone for promotion. I saw the poster you had up for this show, and seriously, I could do better."

Patrick folded his arms and tried to regain his sense of personal space, but Pete wasn't making it easy for him. "What could _possibly_ make you think that telling me the way I do my job is not good enough will make me _hire you_?"

"Because I'm right," Pete grinned at him. For a moment, Patrick looked as if he might hit him, but then he stepped away.

"No, Pete. My answer is _no_. I have to get packed up, excuse me."

Pete stood his ground a little longer, but eventually conceded and let Patrick take his lute and go. He returned to his tower, thoughtful.

"Jon," he yelled, half an hour later after running down to the stables, "saddle up my horse. I have a minstrel to follow."

*

Pete caught up with Patrick the next day, before the performance. "What - _Pete_, what are you _doing here_?"

"Look. I can follow you around, do your promotion _for_ you and annoy the hell out of you, or you can take me on. Patrick." He took a deep breath. "Let me prove to you that you need me."

Patrick looked at him for a long time, face inscrutable. At last he said, "Try."


End file.
